Chapter 28: Old Ghosts

The air left my lungs in one fell swoop, like I'd been punched in the gut and the air had been knocked out of me from blindsided shock.

I'd thought—or rather hoped—I'd never see James again.

James stepped forward, sliding past me into my apartment, acting like he belonged there, like he was coming home and had simply forgotten his key, locking himself out of his own place.

I wanted to stop him, but I was too stunned to act in time, shock of his appearance superseding my ability to think on my feet. It was like I'd stepped back in time. He was exactly the same as I remembered him; shaggy dishwater blonde hair, grey eyes, confident smirk, swagger of a walk, and a commanding presence.

"Going somewhere?" he asked haughtily, pointing with a rolled up piece of paper in his hand as he walked to the fridge and pulled out a beer, like it was his own.

"What are you doing here James?" I managed to ask in a strained voice, unable to apply the seething tone I wanted because it came out in an almost choked whisper. I still hadn't fully caught my breath.

I hadn't seen him since the day I moved out of the apartment we had together and into this one. He hadn't stayed there much longer than I had; waiting only until the lease was up, then following the whorish redhead he had been screwing on the side to Seattle.

Why Jessica is so bent up about favors was beyond me. What the hell favors were, I hadn't the slightest clue, but Jess insisted they were a necessity and we had to do them.

Whatever they were.

I laughed in impressed annoyance at my sister. She was one who knew how to get what she wanted; I had to give her that.

Poor Mike looked so uncomfortable telling me to finish up or hand off what I was working on and get out of the office. That boy was whipped.

Whatever thing Jessica insisted he'd had for me in high school, causing their first break-up—if it even was true—wasn't there any longer. He did anything Jessica wanted. It was all for her.

The bonus two-and-a-half days of vacation he had gifted me would have been a great surprise had it not come with the contingency of spending time with my sister—and mother—doing wedding things I didn't think mattered. I was supposed to walk down an aisle in a dress, James and I both would say "I do", and then have a party in my parents' back yard; it should have been as simple as that. But no.

Wasn't a wedding supposed to be about what the bride wanted?

Not in my family apparently. In my family it was all about the mother and sister of the bride.

Sigh.

I turned off the road and pulled into the small parking lot of James' and my apartment complex—something my father and brother weren't pleased about. They didn't like that we had moved in together. It didn't matter to them that we had waited until after we were engaged. They were being stubborn and pigheaded. Besides, it wasn't like they had any ground to piffle about James and I living together before we were married; my parents got married only six months before Jacob arrived at a healthy eight-and-a-half pounds, and Jake just moved in with that Leah chick he had only just met about two seconds beforehand.

Double standards. Men.

I opened the door and the thick, sticky heat of the late July sun nearly suffocated me as I stepped out of the car. Sweat began to bead on my skin by the time I closed the door behind me. I pressed the button on my keychain and heard the locks on my little white Honda click in place.

I missed my truck.

Sure I had to hit the dashboard to get the fan running and had to roll the windows down to cool the cab more often than I was able to get the fan to work—not that it helped much when it did—but I loved my truck. I loved the faded red color, the big, round fenders full of rust, the cracked leather seats. It had personality. Something the Honda would never have; all that would happen when it got old and began to rust, was that it would look and feel like a piece of junk.

But James had insisted on giving up the "unreliable" truck—that actually ran great thanks to Jake—for the new-to-me Honda, I had lukewarm feelings for. The truck was one of the few things I had ever felt strongly about and it was gone.

Sigh.

I guess it made sense to get rid of it. Something I felt that strongly about just didn't belong in my lackluster life. The okay feelings I had toward the Honda were more appropriate.

I walked quickly to the apartment entry door, eager for the small relief the un-air-conditioned room would provide. And then I unlocked the main door, disappointed in the facility's general temperature control, the hallways were only marginally better than the entry had been and hurried to the cool apartment, unlocking its door quickly.

The dark coolness of the space greeted me like I stepped into an alternate world.

Ah. This was great.

I left the lights off as I walked into the apartment, shutting the door behind me, not wanting to disrupt the serenity of the cool, quiet apartment. It felt as though flipping a light on would somehow cause the temperature in the place to instantly swell by ten degrees. My eyes quickly adjusted to the dark space, the persistent rays of light pushing through and around the heavy curtains of the living room, giving just enough light to navigate through. I set my keys on the table and found the counter and sink full of trash left there by James.

I rolled my eyes and groaned but cleaned up all the garbage, throwing it into the trash that was within arm's reach.

Why he couldn't just throw things away was beyond me. It drove me nuts. But after the first couple months, I gave up on reminders and complaints. They didn't help and I ended up throwing it away myself anyway, so I stopped trying to get him to do it and just did it myself.

"I was in the neighborhood," he said pulling the corners of his lips down, raising his eyebrows and giving a shrug, like it was as simply as that, like it wasn't an odd thing for him to just drop by, even though I hadn't seen or heard from him in two years. "And I thought I'd stop by to see my famous ex-fiancé. You're all over the internet, you know; a celebrity by association."

The refrigerator door closed as James twisted off the cap. Then he reached over and threw the beer cap in the sink, even though the trashcan was visible and within as easy a reach as the sink. He'd always done things like that. It had always bothered me, but today I could feel my blood pressure rise to dangerous levels in response to the action, anger replacing my surprise of his appearance. I knew now that it was one of his many ways he degraded me, how he had made sure to make it clear to me in every action, every word, every everything, that he was above me. Before I would have said nothing and later thrown the beer cap in the trash myself.

Not now. Not anymore. Not in my home.

"The sink is not the trash container," I seethed. I could feel my face burn red hot with anger.

James scoffed, crumpling his face that said, "yeah whatever," and took a long drink of his beer. Then he took a step to leave the kitchen. I moved, blocking him.

"Put the cap in the trash," I said, the level of my voice controlled, but my tone was serious, concrete. "This is my house, not yours to disrespect." I wasn't budging on this. He needed to know I wasn't putting up with his bullshit. Not anymore.

He laughed and lifted his beer to take another drink.

I yanked it out of his hand, spilling beer all over my hand, on his shirt and the floor.

"Put the fucking beer cap in the goddamn trash, James."

He glared down at me in defiance, his eyes asking how dare I talk to him like that. Because I had never talked to him like that before and I never would have in the past. Not the Bella he knew.

But this wasn't the me I was from a couple years ago. I didn't waver; I kept my eyes locked in his flat, shallow, grey ones as I held the beer away from him.

"When I told you that I wanted you to be more like Rosalie," James said reaching into the sink, grabbing the bottle cap, showing it to me, and then leaning back and tossing it into the trashcan with far more force than necessary, "I didn't mean you should turn into a raging bitch," he spat. Then he snatched his beer back, splashing his shirt in the process and walked around me, plopping himself onto the open space of my couch where Jacob had sat earlier. "You're pretty Bella, but not that pretty where you can get away with that kind of shit, the way Rose can. It's amazing that famous guy puts up with you pulling shit like that. Or has he not yet seen this new super bitchy side of you?"

I rifled through the fridge for a quick bite to eat before I succumbed to Jessica's version of torture; wedding stuff.

At this rate, I was going to melt as I walked down the aisle and there'd be no wedding with the bride lying in a puddle. You couldn't marry a puddle. So why fuss with details, like favors—whatever they were—when they weren't going to matter? This thick, sticky heat wave was apparently sticking around.

Miserable late July weather.

I found a container of leftovers. After a small debate I decided the cool, cave-like sanctuary my apartment was, made heated food still palatable even with the suffocating temperature outside and popped it into the microwave to heat up. I walked to the bedroom to pull out my wedding dress from the closet and laid it on the bed, deciding I'd stop by the seamstress shop on my way to Jessica's house. I needed to drop it off to get pressed and had planned on dropping it off tomorrow but since it was on my way to Jess' house, I might as well do it today.

Then I headed to the bathroom for a quick visit, while I waited for my lunch.

As I washed up, I scrutinized myself in the mirror wishing to see someone else as a reflection. I was disappointed that all the drastic lightening I'd done to my hair had still left me not quite past the mark of being blonde.

I watched the corners of my mouth turndown with that realization. I could hear James' voice in my head with his constant remarks about blondes—Rosalie mostly—but blondes in general. He had been asking me to go blonde since we first started dating, telling me how sexy it would be if I did. I liked my brown hair though. It might have been plain, boring brown, but I was comfortable in it. It was mine. It was me. Blonde—or rather blondish—just felt like I was wearing someone else's hair and left an uncomfortable feeling behind upon seeing my reflection. But James approved of it, encouraging me to keep going lighter.

When my eyes moved from my not quite blonde enough hair to my eyebrows, I gritted my teeth in frustration; they gave me away anyway. They were dark brown. I didn't particularly like the blonde on me, but the brown eyebrows made me feel like I looked ridiculous. Like they were telling me I shouldn't try to pretend to be something I wasn't.

Turning to the side, away from my mocking eyebrows, I pressed my hand, flat against the front of my ribcage, under my chest. My thoughts turning sullen as I did; wishing my boobs were as large as Rose's who apparently had the "perfect size". I had never minded my smaller breasts before. They weren't really something I'd given much thought to, they seemed to fit my body—they didn't look too large or small for it—and that was pretty much as much attention as I'd ever given them. James liked them too, well enough, so he said—and he played with them any chance he could—he just said he'd like them better if they were bigger.

I guess he had a point. Rose did have pretty much the perfect body; the perfect everything. Still, I really didn't want to have the surgery that was James' "wedding gift" to me—we weren't going to go anywhere for a honeymoon, instead I was going to Seattle get a boob job.

Sigh.

I looked petulantly at my reflection wishing my breasts were already bigger on their own so I didn't have to go through surgery in order for them to gain "perfect" status.

I supposed he had a point though. I guessed they would look better if they were bigger…

"Oh no James, you're special. Bitch Bella is reserved just for you," I said in a sweetly venom-filled voice.

Bitch Bella nodded firmly in agreement, smiled slyly and flipped him the bird in my head.

"You've earned it."

"You've sure changed," he scoffed with a humorless laugh as he tipped back his beer. It wasn't a compliment, but it wasn't an insult either, more like a comment of observation. "I liked you better before; light hair, didn't act like a bitch, fifteen pounds lighter—though it looks like the weight gain has made your boobs bigger, so that kind of makes up for the little extra flab."

"Screw you!" I snapped. "I won't stand here and let you belittle me like you used to. I know I don't have to put up with it, so if that's all you're here for, you can get the hell out of my house."

I'd gotten really thin before the almost wedding, trying to be thin enough for James. I was so thin, in fact, that I'd stopped getting my period when I was on the placebo week of birth control pills. A good scare slash chastising by my doctor, when I went in shortly after James and I had broken up, had me get back to a healthy level. That, and the fact Rose and Jake practically force fed me, whenever I was in the same room as either one of them, for a while.

"Oh, don't be like that, Bella. Take a compliment, I'm saying they look good," he nodded in approval, staring at my chest, "even hidden under that baggy t-shirt I can tell that. Of course they'd look better if you'd used that money I'd saved up for the boob job, but better than when I last saw them."

Ugh I hate you! Jack hole fucking ass crack. I thought as I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling violated knowing James' eyes were on them.

My blood pressure had my entire body in flames, I was sure my skin was beet red. I'd forgotten how horrid he had been to me, or maybe just never fully realized it before how his "compliments" were always underhanded; containing some insult or example on how I wasn't quite good enough, to make sure he kept me in my place. Then experiencing what it was like being with Edward—what it was like being with someone who treated me really well—made it crystal clear how abhorred James acted towards me. And it glared like a bright spotlight now that I was in his presence again, finally used to what it was like being treated well.

No wonder I'd had major self-esteem issues. The only real relationship I'd had was with a guy who, on a daily basis, basically told me that the reason I hadn't had any guy ask me out before him wasn't because I had been shy and introverted, but because I just wasn't good enough. I was pretty, but not pretty enough. My hair color was okay, but it would be better if it was different. I was thin but not thin enough. I had nice boobs, but they weren't big enough. The degree I was going for was wrong. Where I wanted to live was wrong. What I wanted to do was wrong.

Never good enough. Never right.

Never.

I wanted to smack him. Hard. Not Bitch Bella—though she was in agreement, egging me on—but me. I wanted to hit him—badly. Actually, I wanted to beat the living shit out of him. I didn't consider myself as a normally violent person—throwing markers at Jacob when he made jokingly jerky comments aside—but finally realizing, when I had Edward, just how horrible of a person James was, made me want to inflict pain on him for what he had done to my psyche.

"What the hell do you want James? You're wasting my time and I have things to do," I said giving an impatient sigh.

Things that left you far, far in my distant past.

I clenched my fists at my sides, trying to overrule my desire to hit him. I knew violence wouldn't be a good idea no matter how much I wanted to do it.

"Yeah I see that. Looks like you're moving," he said looking around the apartment, taking a drink of his beer.

I rolled my eyes, impatient for him to get to whatever it was that brought him there tonight, and leave.

He got up, but didn't head towards the door. Something seemed to have caught his eye and he headed over to my computer.

"Does this move have anything to do with the new actor boyfriend I've been reading all about you having? You sure are dating up, you know," he quickly added shooting me a pointed glance. "Bit of a reach don't you think, Bella?" he scoffed condescendingly picking up the framed picture of Edward and me. "He's way out of your league. Hell, he's out of Rosalie's league. Same as that brother of his she's supposedly fucking," he added, trading the picture of Edward and me for the group picture from Edward's birthday dinner.

I could feel tears threaten. Tears from frustration and self-doubt that seemed to go hand-in-hand with James' presence, mixed with fresh tears of hate. I gritted my teeth. I didn't want to cry in front of James. I didn't want to give him that satisfaction that he'd gotten to me that way.

"Whaddya do? Sell your soul to the sex Gods to get a guy like that in the sack?" he asked waving the picture. "Or is it some sort of publicity stunt staged by his handlers to make all the average girls like you think they too could have a shot with him, or is he gay and poorly trying to cover it up?"

The microwave sounded, pulling me out of my displeased contemplations of all the things I needed to change about myself. My lunch was ready.

Who was I kidding? I should skip lunch. I needed to fit into my dress.

Sigh.

I leaned forward, examining my eyebrows quickly one more time before I gave up my scrutinizing. I wondered if I thinned them even more, maybe they would seem like they were lighter. Hopefully even light enough to pass as belonging to this light brown, semi-blonde hair.

Sigh. Maybe. I'd ask Jess to pluck them for me.

The sound of the apartment door opening made me start. I had thought James was at a job interview in Seattle this afternoon.

I groaned internally. If he was home then it had gotten cancelled and he'd be in a shitty mood.

At least it made the prospect of spending the afternoon with my sister and mother doing wedding stuff sound infinitely better by comparison of an afternoon of James in a foul mood.

I reached out to grab the bathroom's door handle with one hand and flip the switch with the other, hoping that maybe I had it wrong and the interview had been this morning. I just turned the bathroom light off with my right hand as my left closed around the door handle to suck it up and go talk to him, when I stopped short in the pitch blackness.

I heard a woman's voice. No, a woman's light, sigh of a moan.

My chest tightened with a warm uneasiness as I held my breath, debating on opening the door or not.

"Fuck it feels so good in here," she crooned.

My heart raced.

"Oh I bet it does feel good in there," James' voice said seductively.

The woman giggled, followed by the sound of the apartment door slamming shut. A moment later, the woman's laughter faded, dipping into a deep, throaty moan.

What…!

My heart raced. No.

No, no, no, no, no. This wasn't happening. No. I couldn't be…

I couldn't pull in a breath. I felt dizzy and my chest felt tight as I tried to convince myself it couldn't be what it sounded like. My hand clung to the doorknob it still gripped for support and the other clutched to the counter, unsuccessful in my attempt to assure myself.

The anger that was rocking through me from his snide comments had an oddly calming effect, one that felt dangerous.

I liked it. It made me feel brave and strong.

"Nope," I smiled coolly and a bit smugly too because I knew just how much Edward appreciated me in the bedroom, but I wasn't going to give James the satisfaction of a rebuttal to his crass remark. "Sorry to disappoint you James," I said in a way that said I wasn't sorry at all, "but there's no stunt involved and E—Anthony is definitely not gay." I couldn't help but smirk with just how well I knew it. "We're actually very much together," I continued, feeling relieved that James didn't catch my near-slip, "not that it's any of your business."

"Well," he scoffed, "you must have vastly improved in the sack if you got him to fuck ya," he laughed.

You have no idea. I thought triumphantly with a fresh roll of anger from yet another insult. It's amazing the difference it makes being actually attracted to your partner.

"Oh and for the record, Anthony and I are in exactly the same league," I informed him, my voice superior and snippy with his patronizing remarks, belittling me. "I finally realized that the slime-filled cesspool of jackholes like yourself rot in, is way below mine and found an equal, for once," I retorted.

Bitch Bella gave me a pat on the back as she smirked and nodded her head sharply once at James in agreement with my words.

James laughed cockily.

Ooo! Fucking smack him! Bitch Bella shouted to me.

"Right," he scoffed looking over at me, his eyes traveling up and down contemptuously like I was nothing. "Look at you. You're just quite the catch, aren't you?" he sneered sarcastically. "Sweatpants, baggy t-shirt, hair up, no make-up on. You're dreaming, if you think you are anywhere close to being in the same league as an A-list celebrity like Anthony Cullen. Take a look in the mirror, Bella. You need a reality check. You're as plain and ordinary as the day I met you. You're just not that pretty."

"Screw you James," I retorted, my words sounding like steel, unable to hold in my anger any longer from the barrage of insults he kept flying at me. "You can't pull that shit over on me like you used to. I know better now."

"Really?" he asked skeptically, grinning like he had an ace up his sleeve. "Seems to me, you shouldn't have gotten on that high horse you're riding, and should have kept a closer ear to the truth of what I've told you instead."

I rolled my eyes and gritted my teeth angrily, tired of his games.

"Tell me what the hell you want and get out," I challenged.

Out of my sight. Out of my head. Out of my apartment. Out of my life. Out.

"Alright," he nodded, and took a languid drink of his beer, letting out a satisfied "ah" when he pulled it from his lips and set it down on my desk. "Let's just say," he said slowly, and made a clicking sound with his tongue when he paused, "that I'm guessing that you're not going anywhere." He gestured around with that rolled piece of paper he held between his fingers to my half-packed apartment. As he did, the voice of Edward's character, Ian, came from the television speakers, filling the small silence.

"No, I think I am," I argued concretely.

James raised his eyebrows in challenge to my retort and leaned back against my desk. He picked up his beer again, took a swallow, set it back down and smiled smarmily at me.

"I was right. You haven't seen it, then," he ascertained, smiling wider, cocky now as he waved the rolled-up piece of paper in his hand back and forth in front of me. His tone seemed like it was supposed to sound surprised, but didn't succeed in that effort. "I suppose, you've been too wrapped up to see the obvious. Hmm… Sounds familiar."

"What the hell are you talking about?" I demanded, angry and impatient.

"See for yourself, Bella," he said, his grey eyes lit up with excitement as he handed me the rolled up piece of paper. "I brought you a little present—since you're so certain you're moving, you can think of it as a going away present."

A cold sweat flashed across my skin. I turned my body towards the counter, hoping I was imagining things as I leaned over the sink. My breathing was heavy and it rang back to me loudly bouncing off the bowl of the sink.

I listened to them. James and the woman. I could hear the sound of them kissing. Her moaning. His unmistakable heavy panting. I heard them make their way through the apartment and to our bedroom as she asked him flat out if he was going to fuck her already, and his affirmative reply, leaving no question as to what was going on.

I swayed, nearly getting sick hearing the unmistakable sound of clothes falling to the floor.

I didn't know what possessed me to leave the bathroom, maybe I just couldn't handle listening to them any longer, maybe I'd meant to confront him, maybe I was going to run from there. I hadn't a clue.

With a shaky hand, I wrapped my fingers around the doorknob and turned it quietly. I opened the door silently and stepped out of the bathroom. The sound of them louder with no door between us to muffle it; her mewing moans and his heavy pants mixed in with the sound of their mouths moving against one another and rustling of their remaining clothing being discarded.

For a moment I stared down the hall to the open bedroom door. It felt like I was frozen there; I knew I did not want to see this. But then I felt my feet shuffling noiselessly forward on their own volition, driven by the morbid need to see it. Subconsciously I believe I knew that if I didn't see it with my own eyes, I wouldn't believe it was true.

As I slowly drew closer the first thing I saw was her bare leg; bent, up in the air. Then his bare arm holding himself up by his forearms. Then his bare side laying over hers, pressing her to our bed. Her arm as she ran her hands down his bare back. Then, when I came into full view, standing in the doorway, I saw her head thrown back. Her eyes closed, mouth hanging open and her curly, bright red hair was splayed out on top of my wedding dress.

On top of my wedding dress; the dress I was supposed to wear in two days for my wedding to…

James. I watched as he kissed her neck, and then down to her flat chest sucking on them fervently like they were the greatest things ever as he reached down, tugged off his briefs before he worked his way back up and shoved roughly against her without warning. Entering her. Screwing her.

She screamed out. It was a sound that was meant to be one of pleasure, but her face pinched together like it hadn't been pleasurable at all.

Or maybe that was just the way I wanted to see it. I didn't want to think that sex with him was any more enjoyable for her as it was for me, because the alternative fed my insecurities that something was wrong with me.

There were no words to describe what I felt as I watched him pump himself into her, so caught up in what they were doing they didn't realize they had an audience. It didn't feel like it could be real. It felt like I had to have been watching a bad movie, because it couldn't possibly be happening. It couldn't have been real; James wanted me. James had told me that he loved me. James told me he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. It couldn't be that he wanted someone else.

Could it?

I was in shock. I couldn't move. I couldn't speak. I couldn't… breathe…

Because as much as it couldn't be; it was. And it was happening right in front of my eyes. James was thrusting himself into some redhead in non-rhythmic jerks on top of my wedding dress; the dress I was supposed to get married to him in within a couple days.

My struggles to pull in a breath finally paid off but my breath caught, making a small, hiccupping sound in my throat.

James didn't notice but her eyes flew open and her pale green eyes flashed to me, meeting mine. Instead of stopping him, calling his attention to my presence, she smiled at me like an alley cat; satisfied. Then she turned her face back to him and moaned louder, arched her back and egged him on until seconds later, he came inside her grunting loudly as he jerked chaotically.

I felt the room spin and I nearly fell, catching myself on the doorframe, making a loud noise as I stumbled.

James looked up at me then. His face wasn't mortified, or remorseful, it was angry. And when he opened his mouth, it wasn't an apology that was spoken; instead he began to yell at me like it was my fault, demanding to know what the hell I was doing home. He yelled at me like it had been me who'd done something wrong as he hurriedly pulled his clothes back on and the redhead just smirked at me in silence, satisfied.

He was angry at me.

Everything had been for him. I had done everything for him since the day he approached me; the day he chose me over everyone else. I'd done everything to be what he wanted, to be who he wanted.

I had thought I was what he wanted. He'd told me I was, but that obviously wasn't the case. He was screwing someone else, and not just someone else, but someone who was nothing like he'd told me he wanted me to be.

He'd lied and I'd bought it. I'd bought each and every lie out of his vile mouth. I wasn't someone James wanted. It was a lie. It had always been a lie.

I unrolled the smashed piece of paper with difficulty; it slipped from my fingers twice, quickly spinning itself back up before I could see what the hell it was. The third time, I bent the paper widthwise slightly to keep it from rolling up again and read the large title at the top, "New Romance Quickly Fizzled Out – Old Flame Rekindled." It was dated today, but I barely registered the words because under it was a photo that demanded my attention. It was a picture of Edward and Tanya in Atlanta, I recognized the place; they were on set, near the entry. Tanya's strawberry blonde hair was flying back away from her in the wind, her hands were on the back of Edward's neck, pulling him to her and Edward's hands cupping her face… kissing her.

No.

My breathing turned shallow and I felt dizzy.

No, it couldn't—. But yet it was.

My chest burned hotly.

No. Please God, no.

I didn't realize my legs had gone out from under me until I felt James' hands, holding me upright.

I jerked back away from his touch like it was painful, which wasn't far from the truth; it made my skin crawl. I didn't want to be touched by him. I felt dirty just having been. It was something I'd made sure he never did again after I'd caught him with that redhead.

I made my way to the coffee table with some difficulty and sank down on it, not thinking I'd be able to make it two more steps to the open spot on the couch. As soon as I sat, my attention was caught by the television directly in front of me. Edward's character and the female lead in Undone kissing passionately, and I knew the scene that would follow.

My stomach turned uneasily, the sight was more than I could take right now.

Some deity out there had one sick sense of humor or really hated me.

"Seriously, Bella?" James' self-righteous voice interrupted my journey down the twisting black hole I was rapidly sinking in to. "Did you really think in a million fucking years that you could keep a guy like that satisfied when you couldn't do that for a normal guy like me?" James asked me condescendingly. "Christ, Bella, with all those books you always have your nose in, I thought you were at least a bit smarter than that."

As if in agreement, Edward's character was leading the woman in the movie to the bed.

I choked back a heave and desperately searched for the remote beside me on the table. I fumbled with the buttons, wondering what the hell made me think watching that movie would be a good idea, as I seemed to be unable to remember how to work the damn thing. Finally, I managed.

James snorted a laugh when I closed my eyes and took a relieved breath when the television was black and silent, visibly shaking.

My eyes flew open to glare at him, but were quickly drawn back down to the paper in my hand. I stared at it, unable to piece it together.

It didn't make sense.

Edward wouldn't do that. He swore to me I could always trust him. I knew he wouldn't; I could feel the truth of it that he wouldn't.

But the picture said otherwise.

I could feel him watching me as I clutched the paper shakily in my hands and studied it, willing for something to indicate to me that it wasn't exactly what it looked like. I tried several times to read the words of the article beneath it, but was unsuccessful. I couldn't register the words to any meaning, so my eyes went back to the picture. My body filled with uneasy warmth and swayed when I realized… I couldn't find anything.

But it couldn't be. No. It just couldn't be.

I fought the tears that wanted to rip through me, determined to not cry in front of James, determined to not give him any more satisfaction than he already had gotten with the simple fact of delivering this to me. I folded my arms around my chest to keep myself together, the action pulling the picture of Edward and Tanya kissing out of my view. I fought against the crushing heartbreak that burned painfully in a way that I never felt from what I'd seen James do, which was so much worse of a thing than this.

No. I wouldn't' give him that. I wouldn't let him see me cry.

James laughed with smug pity.

I glared at him belligerently, focusing on my anger towards him to distract myself from the ripping, all-consuming pain.

"I mean, sure," James continued, ignoring my glare, "you were always a nice, tight piece of ass I looked forward to, but a man needs more than that. He needs variety. And let's face it, Bells, you may have been an alright little lay, but variety wasn't your thing. And the pool of variety he can tap is virtually endless.

"I think you need to revisit your newly found idea about leagues because there's no universe out there where you would be in the same league as Tanya Denali. That is the type of woman that's in Anthony Cullen's league. Not you. Not even fucking close. You just can't compete with that."

"Get the hell out of my goddamned house," I demanded, feeling my control faltering at the stabs he'd made into my recently found self-assurance.

James continued to stand where he was, not moving.

"You've had your fun, knocking me down just like you always did," I seethed, glaring up at him, my body shaking heavily, about to fall apart under my feeble control. "So, if you're done, get out. Get the hell out!"

"I was trying to do something nice for you, babe," he grumbled; almost as if he was pouting.

"Yeah, I'm sure you were," I said sarcastically, the shaking getting worse and I felt nauseous.

Please leave James. Just leave.

"Fine, be an ungrateful bitch about it," he spat. "I thought you'd rather hear it from me now than find out later after you'd made the mistake of committing to another guy whose life you couldn't fulfill."

He chugged his beer.

"Whatever," he said glaring at me as he set the empty beer bottle on my bookshelf. "Last time I do something for you."

Yeah, I'm sure this was all for my benefit. I sneered sarcastically as I watched him walk to the door. When have you ever done anything for me?

"Don't say I didn't warn you," James said opening the door and looked back at me. "But it's your own fault thinking you could be with a guy like him."

I didn't reply. I didn't move. I just stared hatefully at him and waited for him to leave, clenching my teeth together so tightly I wondered how they could handle the pressure without breaking.

James made a contemptible scoff, "You are such a fool, Bella, always were so gullible," he laughed and left, slamming the door behind him.

My body tensed in the stillness, unsure of what to do, unsure if it could let go or not, unsure if everything was actually okay now that James was gone.

I didn't know.

I closed my eyes, trying to reason with myself that Edward wouldn't do something like that. There had to be an explanation. A logical explanation.

I pulled the piece of paper into view, searching again for something, anything to tell me I was right.

You didn't think James would do that either. A small voice reminded me, when once again, I found nothing. The reminder was accompanied by the feeling of the sharp pain in my chest searing and twisting, causing tears to begin cascading down my face, falling with audible drops as they hit the piece of paper I held in my hand.

No. I wouldn't believe it. Edward was nothing like James.

My phone sang out in song. I looked at it next to me on the coffee table; it was Edward.

I picked it up to answer it, a mixture of relief and terror rocking through me.

What would he say? What if he told me it was exactly what it looked like?

Panic hit me with my questions of doubt and just as I was about to hit the button to answer the call a loud, ugly sob tore through me; the picture of Edward kissing Tanya at the set in Atlanta in one hand, staring balefully back at me, my phone ringing with a call from Edward in the other. I pulled in a loud, painful breath, trying to get myself under control but another sob hit me harder than the first.

It hurt. Just the simple idea that it could be true was literally painful.

It was overwhelming just how much the idea of the simple possibility of Edward cheating on me hurt, when witnessing actual betrayal with James had never felt like this.

Not even close. James' betrayal had been painful, yes, but this was excruciating.

My hands sunk limply into my lap, defeated. I was so emotionally exhausted.

I couldn't answer the phone, not with hysterical sobs rolling through me, making me sound like I was literally ripping in two. I was unable to control them as they rocked through me.

In submission to my sobs, I clutched the phone to my chest, wishing I could answer the phone, wanting to hear Edward's voice to bring me back to reality; needing to hear him tell me everything was alright and completely terrified that if I answered it he wouldn't.

The action stirred up Edward's scent that clung to his t-shirt I was wearing. I took in a deep breath of it, the smell, calming me down, backing me away from the edge of insanity I was teetering on.

The song stopped. I pulled the fabric to my nose and took another breath, feeling the smell reassure me, slowing the sobs, clearing my head.

And then I remembered Edward telling me that everything with us was fine and my breathing began to calm, stuttering as it slowed.

As my phone sang out again, I crumpled more of the fabric against my face, taking another breath and I remember Edward's upset message from earlier, needing to talk to me.

He was upset.

I took another deep, calming breath, Edward's scent talking me down from hysteria.

He was upset when he'd called me earlier. I clung to that realization like I needed it to live; the picture didn't tell me anything to contradict what it appeared to be, but Edward did. He had called me, upset about something. He'd told me that everything with us was fine.

I could feel everything within me slow, calm and relax by infinitesimal amounts as this sunk in that my world might not be crashing in. Everything might just be alright.

Tears still streamed down my face, but I was no longer in hysterical, gasping sobs. I needed to talk to him; I promised him I would trust him and that I would communicate with him and I needed to keep that promise.

I hit the talk button, but I was too late, the call went to my voicemail.

I pulled up Edward's number suddenly needing to call him back and talk to him, but before I could, my phone broke into song once more.

Edward. Again.

My heart picked up speed and this time, I answered it.

"Edward," I breathed.

A/N:

So I think a lot of questions surrounding why Bella's self-esteem is so messed up have now been answered; James is a complete asshole who's verbally and emotionally abusive to her.

I hope that you're proud of Bella in this chapter, I know I am.

As always, I love to know what you think. Click the [Review] button and let me know if you want to join the mob that would like to kick the crap out of James for Bella.

Thanks for reading & reviewing,

TJE –aka "The Cliffe Bitch"- (sorry, I realize this is kind of another…)

(PS: Thanks MC.) :)